A Winter's Tale
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was dark. It would soon be stormy. Winter was definitely visiting these hills. And where was I? I was on a winding road in my car, returning from yoga practice, when I perceived an almost imperceptible movement out of the corner of my left eye.
Let me pause in my tale. Being human, I have the ability to embroider on the truth. While it sounds good to say that it was almost stormy, I added that detail for effect. Truth be told, it was a calm night, cold but clear. It would soon be stormy, though not that night, not for several days. In other words, I am setting you up, dear reader, to feel sympathy.
Lo and behold, it was a kitten, a tiny kitten on the edge of the road. What could I do? I pulled the car over just in time to avoid annoying two trucks behind me with an abrupt stop. Braking and turning on my emergency blinkers, I got out of the car and moved to the kitten. It came to me, and it brought another. What can I say? I took both of these kittens into my arms, and they drove home in my lap.
Another thing about being human is that I can tell a story. I can feel the need to share my story. Let me add, as if I need to, that the kittens were homeless. They were small, each little more than a pound. They were sick, too, their eyes red and pus filled. One of them sounded as if it had consumption. I thought of all the cats abandoned to the fate of winter. Not enough end up in shelter or homes. Some die on their own on the side of the road or from disease. Would the cat with the cough, by now named Charles, have to die?
Charles and Ray-Ray arrived at my house, as yet unnamed, to find a host of friendly human and animal faces. They drank a bowl of goat milk, moved into a shoebox, and learned to eat food and climb stairs. They also acquired names, began playing on the wood by the woodstove, and emitted two distinctive personalities as they enjoyed the warmth of a cozy house in the midst of winter—especially when the storm did come.
One thing about cats is that I don’t understand their language entirely. I’m not sure that if I did these two would be interested in telling me the story of how they came to be on the side of a country road in the midst of winter. All that is in the past. What counts for them is the present as they weave themselves into the fabric of the life of an ordinary human family with a soft spot for homeless animals. Even so, I have to wonder how these kittens came so close to perishing. Being human, I’m afraid I know.
The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals knows winter is rough on creatures. It gives us all kinds of advice for all seasons. You’d think we could comply, given our sophisticated human brains. You’d think we’d know better than to let animals breed indiscriminately. You’d think we wouldn’t abandon animals we can’t take care of.
However they ended up as lost and and lonely hitchhikers, our two new kittens are no longer cold. Charles and Ray-Ray will take their medicine, get their shots, and spend the rest of their lives acting like cats. Their story will have a happy ending.
Felicia Mitchell. First published in Washington County News (Abingdon, VA), 26 January 2005, p. A4. WCN is a publication of Media General Operations. Copyright 2005.
Let me pause in my tale. Being human, I have the ability to embroider on the truth. While it sounds good to say that it was almost stormy, I added that detail for effect. Truth be told, it was a calm night, cold but clear. It would soon be stormy, though not that night, not for several days. In other words, I am setting you up, dear reader, to feel sympathy.
Lo and behold, it was a kitten, a tiny kitten on the edge of the road. What could I do? I pulled the car over just in time to avoid annoying two trucks behind me with an abrupt stop. Braking and turning on my emergency blinkers, I got out of the car and moved to the kitten. It came to me, and it brought another. What can I say? I took both of these kittens into my arms, and they drove home in my lap.
Another thing about being human is that I can tell a story. I can feel the need to share my story. Let me add, as if I need to, that the kittens were homeless. They were small, each little more than a pound. They were sick, too, their eyes red and pus filled. One of them sounded as if it had consumption. I thought of all the cats abandoned to the fate of winter. Not enough end up in shelter or homes. Some die on their own on the side of the road or from disease. Would the cat with the cough, by now named Charles, have to die?
Charles and Ray-Ray arrived at my house, as yet unnamed, to find a host of friendly human and animal faces. They drank a bowl of goat milk, moved into a shoebox, and learned to eat food and climb stairs. They also acquired names, began playing on the wood by the woodstove, and emitted two distinctive personalities as they enjoyed the warmth of a cozy house in the midst of winter—especially when the storm did come.
One thing about cats is that I don’t understand their language entirely. I’m not sure that if I did these two would be interested in telling me the story of how they came to be on the side of a country road in the midst of winter. All that is in the past. What counts for them is the present as they weave themselves into the fabric of the life of an ordinary human family with a soft spot for homeless animals. Even so, I have to wonder how these kittens came so close to perishing. Being human, I’m afraid I know.
The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals knows winter is rough on creatures. It gives us all kinds of advice for all seasons. You’d think we could comply, given our sophisticated human brains. You’d think we’d know better than to let animals breed indiscriminately. You’d think we wouldn’t abandon animals we can’t take care of.
However they ended up as lost and and lonely hitchhikers, our two new kittens are no longer cold. Charles and Ray-Ray will take their medicine, get their shots, and spend the rest of their lives acting like cats. Their story will have a happy ending.
Felicia Mitchell. First published in Washington County News (Abingdon, VA), 26 January 2005, p. A4. WCN is a publication of Media General Operations. Copyright 2005.
posted by Felicia Mitchell | 10:44 AM
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